


Piece by Piece

by fullonzombae



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2018-11-06 20:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11043732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullonzombae/pseuds/fullonzombae
Summary: Ravi told Blaine his memories would come back, sooner or later. But being told about your past and remembering your past are very different experiences.





	1. Chapter 1

Silence in 3A, Hampton Place felt forced and unnatural. But sprawled out on the sofa, Blaine had nothing but the faint hum of the refrigerator to accompany his thoughts. He reached for his phone, the once constant notification panel now empty; a sign, if ever he needed one, that times were changing. His friends were now foe, and now Blaine found himself crashing on the couch of a woman who had once wanted him dead.

Given what he knew of the Blaine he had been before the amnesia, he could hardly blame her.

If she was sceptical of his amnesia, Blaine thought as he plugged in his earphones and placed an earbud in each ear, then Liv had the grace not to let it show. Granted, she hadn't lulled him into a sense of security, convincing him that all was forgiven between them – he'd have been suspicious if she had – but with time, she seemed to have softened towards him. Last night, they had spent the evening sharing a pizza and some crappy sitcom. The name and the lacklustre plot evaded him, but the theme tune had grated with a sickening familiarity.

_So no-one told you life was  
Going to be this way.  1_

If anyone had told him life was going to be 'this way', he would have thumped them. But perhaps someone had warned him. He'd had snippets of his life laid out in front of him; Ravi's recaps, the way Liv sometimes shut herself off entirely after finding herself humoured by him, as if the guilt of enjoying the company of a drug dealing, brain dealing murderer was too much for her to bear. And then there had been the meeting with his father, his disdain clear from the moment Blaine laid out his attempts at peace. His father had rejected him, made his disdain and his and his hatred clear – and for what? Being an eleven year old child, desperate for his father's approval.

That's what it had been for, right?

Swinging his legs down from the sofa, Blaine cycled through a never ending playlist that seemed to span genre after genre, decade after decade, trying to work out if any particular tracks had meant something to him. Eventually, he settled on a random track and dropped his phone into his pocket.

_Lord I've been trying to be what I should,  
Lord, I've been trying to do what I could... 2_

 

What the old Blaine had done to alleviate his boredom and a crashing sense of loneliness, he didn't know. From what he could piece together, it had often involved drugs, sex, and the occasional bout of extreme violence. Hardly something to aspire to, but he could look back now with the privilege of a blank slate; knowledge without the memories.

Six AM rolled around, and Blaine finally resigned himself to the fact that sleep had eluded him, once again. Pulling on his jeans, he made his way to the kitchen and began rummaging through the fridge. Broccoli, salmon, avocado, and brains – clearly labelled. _Use first – A Nicholls._

Ah. The Nicholls case. He'd caught snippets of conversation between Liv and Ravi, Liv and Clive, and thanks to these brains, Liv and herself. He hadn't meant to listen in, but curiosity had gotten the better of him.

As Blaine pulled the first batch of salmon cakes from the oven, Liv appeared in his line of vision, hauntingly silent. Her hair hung around her, damp from the shower, and he tried his hardest to hide his satisfaction at this moment of domesticity. He held up the tray, and for a moment he forgot about the constant stream of Metallica.

“Figured you'd need breakfast,” he called, his voice accidentally raised as he held up the tray for her to see. She answered with a nod of approval, a grimace, and a gesture towards her ears. Realising his mistake, he ripped the buds from his ears and set his phone down on the counter, before crouching down to remove the second – this time, human friendly – batch of salmon cakes from the oven. Had he looked up, he would have seen how her eyes drifted to his backside, but their eyes didn't meet until he dropped the second tray onto the counter.

He couldn't help but wonder if the 'old' Blaine had ever truly noticed how beautiful she was. Or had he only ever seen her as a thorn in his side?

* * *

The first memory stuck at just after midday. Standing outside a music shop, he found himself admiring a guitar – electric, a Dean Razorback – and marvelling at the way the brands seem so fresh in his mind. He could remember that this particular brand was favoured by a metal guitarist3, and a familiar riff echoes around his head. The name of the guitarist evaded him, but a chorus reverberated around his mind as if it had always belonged.

 _Look at me now,_  
_I'm broken,_  
_Inherit my life..._ 4

It was then that he saw a flash of silver, a knife – no, a barbecue fork – slicing through the air. Blaine staggered backwards, flinging an arm up to protect his face, a sickening sense of betrayal rushing over him as his free hand reached for his pocket as if he was reaching for something with which to defend himself.

“Whoa, dude. You okay?”

Behind him, a stranger's voice had filled with concern as Blaine looked around for his assailant. But he was only met with the worried, kindly face of a kid – no older than eighteen – his brow furrowed as he waits for an answer.

“Bad trip?”

“I'm not on drugs,” Blaine snapped, still searching the streets for any sign of the man he'd tried to protect himself from. But the streets were empty, aside from a middle aged couple not far from them, and a mother with her kids, one lagging behind whilst the other ran off ahead, her expression telling him that any hubbub had passed her by unnoticed. “I'm not on drugs,” he repeated, his voice little more than a whisper. He didn't wait for an answer as he turned on his heel, leaving the stranger in his tracks.

 

 

 

1The Rembrandts – I'll Be There For You

2Big Star – Try Again

3Dean was the brand favoured by Pantera/Damageplan guitarist, 'Dimebag' Darrell Abbot, who was killed on stage, December 8th, 2004. Shortly before his death, Dimebag co-designed the Razorback, a modified version of the Dean ML. The Razorback designed guitars were released posthumously.

4Pantera – I'm Broken

 


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Blaine checked into the Warwick Seattle Hotel, his phone had been inundated with calls from Liv. Calls, messages, and voicemails. A message that had reminded him he was supposed to be meeting her, Peyton and Major for drinks. Instead, he had found himself greeted with the image of Major at his feet, clutching at a wound at his side. 

_ “Make more now, Bitch." Liv's face was flushed with anger, and Blaine gripped at his leg, shock and rage washing over him. He plucked the needle from his leg, listening with an ire that felt as if it came in ebbs and flows as Liv told him just what it had contained. The first cure.  _

"Mr. McDonough? Do you have any bags..." Blaine answered the desk clerk with a shake of his head, sliding over his credit card. 

"Nah. Nope. Just me." He flashed her a smile, refusing to give too much information away. She could prod, she could pry, and she could flutter her damned pretty eyes, and Blaine couldn't help but feel that once he might have asked her to join him after her shift, to share a drink and a meal. She would have left her number the following morning, and Blaine would have pocketed, pretending he had every intention of calling. It would have been nothing, and for now, the thought crossed his mind. But instead, Blaine reached for his phone, reading the last message from Liv.

[Liv >> Blaine] You're missing out. 

He dropped his phone into his pocket and smiled at the desk clerk once more. "Say, you got one of those travel kits? And..." He trailed off, deciding against his need for a charger. Twelve percent wouldn't last long, but with each memory that had haunted him over the past ten hours, he needed the silence. Liv was worried, and that was something he struggled to wrap his thoughts around. What had he done to arouse her concern? Acted like a friend, when she and Peyton had given him a chance. Sure, he hadn't given them reason to hate him - not this time, at least - and he'd listened to Liv complaining about work, he'd joined them for drinks, he'd even shared the occasional quiet night in when the memories had haunted Peyton. 

"And what else, Sir?" 

"Nothing. Sorry. Nothing else." He flashed her another smile as he took the travel kit and pocketed his card. "So, you on the night shift?" 

She shook her head with a coyness that made her appear so much younger than she already did, enough for Blaine to decide that any plans to seduce her, no matter how brief, were immediately doused. There were limits, and there were hardlines, and those he was not willing to cross. 

"Good. Ex of mine used to do them." He pocketed the keycard as she slid it across the desk, and offered up another smile. "They're exhausting. Anyway. You have a good night..." As he turned to leave the desk, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket again, and he reached down, his thumb against the power button as he turned it off. 

* * *

"He's clearly not coming." Peyton reached over and plucked the phone from Liv's hand, quickly replacing it with a glass of wine. "Look, it's Blaine. He's hardly the most reliable of people, and now he's disappeared off the face of the earth. There was a time you'd celebrate that." 

She was right, and that was part of what frustrated Liv so much. She had hated Blaine, and with just cause. But this new Blaine - or as new as anyone can be when they can't wipe their slate clean - seemed so different, so much softer, and Liv had found herself wondering, as they shared their furtive chats at 2am, if their relationship could have been different had it not been for the cards life had dealt him. "What if something's happened to him? Look, I was supposed to be looking out for him." 

"What, like he did for you? Are we talking about when he murdered Lowell? Or what about that time he stabbed Major." 

Liv knew she should feel guilty for wanting to rush to Blaine's defence, but it was a guilt that remained somewhat absent. She lifted the glass to her lips, taking a sip. She wanted to protest, to change the subject somehow, but with Peyton on her case, she'd see through her in no time. 

When you sit on the edge of an argument with a friend, the atmosphere changes. You find yourself suffocating, wishing you had an escape. But she had promised Ravi she'd be here, and that was a promise she refused to break. 

As Ravi eventually turned up, Liv let out a sigh of relief. His presence was enough to drag Peyton's attention from her, and Liv smiled appreciatively as Ravi took a seat between them. "I swear, having my parents visit is a recipe for disaster," he said as he placed his own glass on the table. "They're picking at Major's lack of eating habits, they're asking why we have so much hot sauce in the house. And my mother is adamant that there must be a nice Indian girl somewhere in Seattle." He let out a groan of frustration, before leaning back against the chair. "One of you has to save me. They're not even staying with me this time, and I'm still at my wit's end." 

"Oh, no. No, you're not roping me into this." Peyton threw her hands up in protest, shaking her head, and Liv let out a laugh. The first time she had met Ravi's parents, she had found herself at odds with Mrs. Chakrabarti. It probably hadn't helped that she'd stood in the kitchen, making coffee, as she stood in nothing more than Ravi's shirt and three pairs of socks.  Or the fact she'd screamed and waved a knife at the intruder. "American girls. They're always so hysterical." Oh, Ravi had teased her about that for weeks. 

"Don't look at me. All it takes is one bad brain, and your mother will be carting you back to England." Liv took a sip from her wine, checking her phone as she spoke. "Besides. I've got a babysitting project. The Nicholls case. And there's series four of Zombie High. I'm not missing that to get asked why I'm so pale. Again. Or to get told that I shouldn't have dyed my hair so much, that's why it's like straw." 

"Wow. You'd both leave me to the wolves." Ravi folded his arms, letting out a dramatic sigh. "I might as well just go missing." Peyton cried to cut him off, making a gesture with her hand as she willed him to shut up. He narrowed his eyes, trying to understand her signals, before turning to look at Liv. "... What have I missed?" 

"Nothing." Liv glared at Peyton, tapping her finger against the glass. "Nothing. It's not important." 

"Blaine's gone missing." 

"What?" Ravi turned to face Liv, his eyebrows knitted. "What, do you think he got lost? Forgot where he was?" Liv shook her head, offering a sad smile in response. 

"He's not answering my calls, so I don't think that's the problem. Perhaps the amnesia's lifted. Perhaps he was having us on all along. I don't know." Her face screwed up as she offered the second option, and she wrapped her arms around herself. "Look. It's late. I'm cold and tired, and I'm going to have to go. I'll..." 

"Look. How about a roast on Sunday. My father's offered to cook and trust me. It'd put a smile on your face." Liv nodded in response and leaned down to hug Ravi, before hugging Peyton and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Fine. I'll see you Sunday." 

* * *

Ravi and Peyton stumbled into his house, drunk and trying to stifle the giggles that often erupted between lovers as they tried to navigate between kisses and finding their way to Ravi's bedroom. As they reached the stairs, Ravi broke off the kiss, slipping his jacket off and draping it over the bannister. "You go and make yourself ready," he whispered as he pressed another kiss to her lips, having to, for what felt like the first time in their relationship, reach up to do so. "I'm going to go and get wine. Whiskey. Vodka. Whatever I find first." He laughed as Peyton answered with a pout. "... Or all three. Don't look at me like that." 

The pout quickly became a smile, and she grabbed his collar, pulling him in for another kiss. As she turned to head up the stairs, she stopped, stripping off her top and throwing it back to Ravi. He caught the top and draped it over his shoulder, scrunching his face up in contemplation. "You're not having that back," he called, before making his way through to the kitchen. 

He didn't see the body slumped across the kitchen table until he had two glasses in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other, and the shock sent the bottle crashing to the floor. It was this that caused Blaine's head to jerk up, looking at Ravi with a look of emptiness, a void, that Ravi didn't recognise. 

"That'll stain if you don't get it up," Blaine offered, nodding towards the puddle. Had it not been for how hollow he sounded, Ravi would have throttled him. Instead, Ravi merely sighed, swiping the paper towels from the counter. Blaine shook his head and stood, rooting through the cabinet under the sink for dishwashing powder, slamming it down on the counter. "You'll need that. And hot water." 

"Where the hell have you been?" 

"Didn't know you cared." 

"I don't. But Liv clearly does. Not that you care, clearly." 

Blaine didn't answer. For a while, he stood with his back against the sink, his arms folded and lips firmly pressed together. Ravi thought back to how Liv had tried to describe him whilst on the brains of an over-sexed artist. This was no longer the look of a man who was trying to suppress 36 years of secrets in order to give himself an air of mystery. It was now the look of a man who was... what, tormented? Surely, for Blaine McDonough, that could never be the case. 

"If you think I don't care, you're wrong." He crossed the kitchen to take a seat at the table. "I know the idea of me caring is an alien concept for you, but still. I could have left Peyton to Stacey Boss. I could have claimed it wasn't my problem. Let him win." 

"I swear to god, if you ever use that to prove a point again, I will fucking throttle you."

"No, you won't. Because let's face it, Ravi. I'm dangerous. Or I used to be. Does that ever go away?" 

"So. Why'd you walk out on her? Liv, I mean. Huh?" Ravi picked up the last piece of glass, before stepping over the spill to drop the shards into the trash can. He could have sworn that a look of anguish crossed Blaine's face. Was it possible for someone's hatred to slowly dissipate? He wasn't sure, but he found himself crossing over to sit opposite Blaine, a look of concern etched upon his brow. 

"I've done fucked up things, Ravi. I mean, a lot. In some ways, that cure was a blessing. Imagine forgetting every damn right wicked, evil, unforgivable thing you've ever done. It's a godsend. But sooner or later, those memories come creeping back. Every heart you've ever broken. Every addict you've made, and every life you've ever stolen. Hell, this morning, I woke to memories of..." He trailed off and shook his head. "Doesn't matter. That's not important. What does matter is that the cure works. The amnesia's not permanent."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's taken me a while to get around to continuing this for a number of reasons. Obviously, this is very canon-divergent to Season 3, but for a while, I found myself debating about how heavily I wanted to focus on Blaine regaining his memories, as opposed to his attempts at proving he could be a better person than he was before. Secondly, this story is going to feature Angus quite heavily, and with the news about Robert Knepper's history, (I don't want to go into details for those who may find it triggering) I did find myself toying with the idea of scrapping the story altogether. However, I feel like Blaine's backstory is an important one, and as a result, Angus will feature quite heavily in later chapters. There's a lot to come, and hopefully, in the coming weeks, I'll be able to provide more updates to this than I have previously.
> 
> \- Kim


End file.
